The Red King
by Lord Onisyr
Summary: Lord Grell had been content to serve as a merciless knight to the Undertaker, the King of Death. Then a mysterious stranger's predictions told of a greater fortune: a fortune won over the king's dead body. Will the Red Reaper remain loyal, or will he seek a bigger prize? Medieval fantasy AU based on Shakespeare's "Macbeth."
1. The King of Death

**The Red King**

Disclaimer: All recognizable characters are the property of Yana Toboso and Square Enix, Co. Ltd. I don't own them; I just examine all their possibilities. Storyline based on "Macbeth" by William Shakespeare.

**Author's Note:** This is a medieval fantasy AU using the characters from Kuroshitsuji. The story is based on Shakespeare's "Macbeth" and the rest of the plot details are original concepts. Basic characterization and canon details from Kuro will be used in this story, though for the most part this is AU. Canon and character details will be tweaked and changed and will not strictly adhere to any version of Kuro.

**Warning:** This chapter contains major character deaths. This might be a theme, so get ready.

**Chapter 1: The King of Death **

White mist billowed over the sloping green field, the grassy hills barely visible under the fog. A few puffs of smoke from Lau's pipe gradually joined the thick white. His covered carriage remained still along the side of the road, the horses snorted and stamped their forelegs a little in growing boredom. He leaned back against the cushion in the driver's seat, feeling Ran Mao curl up further against his blue robes.

Save for the horses' snorting and a gentle breeze all was quiet around them; quiet for any normal human ear. Lau took another deep draw from his pipe and exhaled slowly, closing his eyes and focusing his senses. Soon the sounds came to him, quiet at first though growing to a steady roar in his mind.

Shouting, screaming, grunts, oaths, the screeches of the dying; he heard the clanging of metal against metal, explosions cutting through the din.

He slowly opened his eyes and peered through the mist, focusing his senses, then he saw everything.

Such was his gift: the ability to see across the planes, to see the past and the future. Right now the ethereal plane, the meeting point of the realms, was now a battlefield.

"What is happening?" Ran Mao said lazily.

Lau's lips slowly formed into a smile.

"Pure chaos, my dear," he replied. "I see a battlefield, men with…is that scythes? I see glowing green eyes, someone is waving the standard of the skull. It is the reapers…oh my they have gotten into quite a predicament with some angels. I see wings flapping in the air, holy swords meeting scythes of death. I see…"

His senses honed in on one reaper in particular. Out of all the soldiers on this field this one was the only one he saw.

"A soldier…red armor, red hair, pointed teeth, bathing the ground red…absolutely merciless," he said in awe.

Lau paused, focusing on this one laughing hurricane of death. The images flew though his head through his head one after another: the past, the present, then he saw what would come to being. The images slowed, his focus returned to the red reaper. He gradually pulled his senses from the scene, returning to the simple misty hills in front of him and the quiet all around.

"Ahhh Lord Grell," Lau said, his smile widening. "I would like to have a word with him when he is finished."

Lau took one last puff of his pipe and blew another stream of smoke into the mist. He then tapped out his pipe onto the grass and placed it back in his robes, then caressed Ran Mao's shoulder and took the reins.

* * *

The thundering of hooves sounded across the landscape, a black cloak billowed in the air behind the rider. A breeze blew the mist apart, revealing trails of blood all around the field. He knew he was growing closer.

Soon he saw men in tattered armor shambling around on both sides of the path, scythes in their hands. They looked up at the rider, then stopped and bowed. He gave a few merry waves then continued on his course.

The spatters of blood soon grew to pools; the mud underneath him was red. He kept his concentration on riding, though peered over the fields to get a better look at what he was riding into. He could see a few miles ahead; the eyes of reapers were renowned for their sharpness. Soon he saw torn bodies scattered across the landscape and a few lingering pools of fire. The rider slowed his steed and took a better look at the carnage around him. Feathers were scattered across the landscape, a few torn angel wings close behind.

Many had fallen with their scythes in their hands; sometimes he would see a severed arm still clutching the pole. More often he saw the white robes spattered in blood and blackened with ash, so many bodies were wrapped in their wings. He put his index finger in the air and counted the number of corpses in front of him. A good number of his kinsmen were gone, though most of these bodies were angels.

He nodded approvingly and continued his course. At last he reached a contingent of familiar faces and familiar armor, namely one reaper in particular. Surprisingly Lord William's black tunic bore a few bloody slices and his normally perfect silver chainmail was blackened in places. One of William's gloved hands repeatedly smoothed out his short, black hair in an attempt to make it look presentable despite the blood spatters and sheen of sweat.

The rider slowed his horse, then swung one leg to the side and leapt in the air, his cloak and long white hair billowing around him. The steed dissipated into a cloud of black mist. He drew his great scythe, his black boots landed on the ground and he faced the generals now bowing before him.

The King of Death, the one only known as the Undertaker, had arrived to inspect the battlefield.

Lord William straightened his posture first and approached the king, his spear-shaped scythe poised in his hand as usual.

"Your Majesty," William said.

The Undertaker nodded, placing the bottom of his scythe's pole in the grass in a pool of blood.

"Aww did I miss all the fun?" he chuckled.

Lord William grimaced in disgust, Undertaker snickered; this was so bloody typical.

William was Death's Steward, the king's second in command. Most of his work was purely ceremonial and bureaucratic. Once he has been a soldier now he was content sitting in his chambers and looking over lists and ledgers. He was the coordinator, the gatekeeper, the immediate overseer of the reapers.

"Am I mistaken or did you get your scythe dirty too," Undertaker said, motioning to William's scythe.

William glanced at his blood-coated scythe.

"We needed every scythe that could be spared," William replied, adjusting another out of place lock of hair and looking back to his king.

The Undertaker walked forward, one hand adjusting the silver crown on his head; ten short, silver points circled his head on a band bearing silver skulls. He walked his scythe across the field, taking in the scene before him.

"Now what exactly happened here?" Undertaker said.

"It was a true ambush, my liege," William sighed, keeping a few respectful steps behind the monarch. "You are no doubt aware of the plague in the next village."

"Quite aware, Lord William," Undertaker replied, the corners of his mouth quirking into a dark smirk.

"We have treated this as a mass casualty incident, at least five reapers have been coming in and out a day. The last shift changed at noon, the survivors reported a wave of angels descended on them, clearly hostile. Our men called for reinforcements, they sent their own, it was a nightmare."

Undertaker nodded, bright green eyes scoping the field.

"How many casualties?" the king asked.

"Seventy-five dead at last count, though the numbers are rising; a hundred twenty wounded, thirty seriously," William answered. "The angelic ranks were obliterated, though reports say a few retreated."

Undertaker continued walking amongst the dead, his steward following close behind. He looked at all the scattered body parts, then passed by the ones cleaning up; seeing respectful bows before they continued with their work.

"Give me your insight, Lord William," Undertaker said. "Angels normally just snipe at us, from time to time small contingencies may draw swords; this is hardly one of those occasions. Do you believe this was a random act, or will we be hearing more from these lovely creatures?"

William looked over the field quietly, adjusting his scythe in his hand.

"We need to maintain increased vigilance," William answered. "It is not unusual for angels to attack our kind at random, however this was a full scale battle. Usually the declaration of an angelic war is done by a herald; to my knowledge there was no angel reading a list of grievances. Perhaps the angels are trying to make this village of suffering souls their territory. Or perhaps…"

He gave the king a sideways glance. Undertaker looked back at him with a smile, he knew exactly what was going to come out of his mouth.

"…They were sending us a message," William continued. "Angels normally consider us tainted, though we have tainted ourselves a little further."

Undertaker gave a shrill chuckle.

"You believe they smell our alliances?" the king replied. "They smell the dirty, dirty demons with which we now associate ourselves?"

"These dealings have been discreet, but they cannot be hidden for long," William answered with a pointed look. "With all due respect, Your Majesty, you know my opinion on this subject. Perhaps we would be better served if you took my advice; especially in light of recent events."

William motioned his scythe toward the scene around them, though kept his eyes locked on Undertaker.

"Is this worth having a few souls accounted for and a bit of gossip? Is this all worth playing into the hands of these fiends?" William sneered.

Undertaker stared at him and grinned.

"You have made yourself quite clear on this matter, Lord William," Undertaker snickered. "But I believe I have as well. No, angels have not attacked us in such a manner before, though who's to say they never would. From what I've heard we have no idea why they came after us. If they were declaring war on us, they would have formally declared it. Perhaps this just demonstrated our need for such filthy alliances." He lifted his scythe and motioned his own blade around the field. "If we have any more unwanted guests, Lord Sebastian and his ilk will make for some valuable friends."

Undertaker took a few steps closer to William and looked straight down into his eyes.

"Tell me, Your Excellency, who would you rather have as angel fodder; a few demonlings or a few of your own blood?"

William narrowed his eyes, his skin flushed a little and his breaths heaving. He wanted to say something, he wanted to bite right into that logic. Instead he held his tongue, fighting would do him no good now.

"I would hope you know my answer to that, Your Majesty," William replied though partially gritted teeth.

Undertaker gave a few more chuckles and turned away from his steward, noting his sideways glare and then walking further down the field. He looked down one area and one particular sight of carnage caught his eye. A heap of torn angel bodies lay in a perfect line connected by a river of blood and scattered feathers.

The king stopped and looked at the scene in near awe. He walked down the line, seeing more bodies and more severed limbs and torsos. He stopped counting after a while, there were just so many of them; all bore the pure alabaster skin of angels. He saw no reapers in this one whole section of the field.

"Well well, what have we here," Undertaker gasped, looking over the wounds.

A sharp blade did this; by the tears in the flesh it was a serrated one as well; one double-sided blade maybe? He knew one particular reaper with a scythe like this. He turned to William, judging by that annoyed look his guess was correct.

"I believe I see the handiwork of Lord Grell," the king said.

"I will recommend him for a high commendation," William replied. "By my estimation he slaughtered a third of their ranks."

"My liege," a voice said form the side.

Undertaker and William looked behind them and saw a young reaper, a lad with brown hair pulled into a ponytail. His simple brown leather armor was also scorched and drenched in blood. He bore cuts across his face, though looked otherwise fine. He genuflected before the king, who signaled him to rise.

"What is your name, boy," Undertaker asked.

"Alexis Bell, Your Majesty," the private replied. "If I may report, I saw Lord Grell in battle."

"Oh? Then tell me the story. I so love stories."

"My king, his advance was a gale. He cut through the angels in front of them like hacking through clay: unrelenting, tireless, fearsome. He saved a whole contingent of men; we would have been slaughtered if he hadn't unleashed his fury. I saw a few angels fly away from him screeching in fear."

"My my, it seems our Second Lieutenant isn't so useless after all," Undertaker replied, glancing at William.

"He indeed proved his worth today," William replied, though Undertaker heard a little huff under that proper tone.

Undertaker smirked and turned back to the young reaper.

"Your report has made me very happy, Sir Alexis," the king said, patting the kid on the head. One long nail lightly traced down the slashes on his face. "Now go get that cleaned up."

"Thank you, Your Majesty," Alexis said, bowing and running off.

Undertaker took another look at the field of carnage.

"I do believe Lord Grell is indeed worthy of some accolades," he said. "Where is he now?"

"Last I heard he is scoping the perimeter, Sir Ronald is with him," William answered. "I will need a report from him before the end of the day."

"Let the poor man have his quiet time, with his squire," Undertaker said with a dismissive wave. "He's certainly earned it."

Undertaker walked off, eyeing the rest of the carnage; William following like a good dog though that pout was firmly in place.

They then came across a swath of reaper bodies; the king's eyes then fell on a wide blade, serrated on one side lying amongst the rubble. He stopped and stared at it, feeling William step into place beside him. He knew who bore this scythe.

"I hope this doesn't belong to who I think it does," Undertaker groaned.

William walked a few quick steps to the blade, then looked around the field of bodies. He then made out a shock of singed blond hair, looking down to see a burly form encased in light plate armor and a blue tunic drenched in blood. The back of his neck was torn open, muscles and severed spinal column exposed. Beside him was another reaper; William bent down to clean some of the soot from his face and immediately recognized who this was. His head was bathed in blood, though William could still make out that shaggy brown hair.

"Gods help us," he sighed with a heavy breath.

"Indeed," Undertaker replied.

The tip of the king's boot kicked over the body of the blond man. The reaper's eyes were open and cloudy, blood soaked into his shaggy goatee. The second reaper was revealed to have a holy sword still stuck through his neck. Undertaker and William froze, staring at the two bodies with heavy looks.

"Lord Eric, Sir Alan," Undertaker sighed. "Rest in peace gentlemen."

William let out a hard breath and looked away.

"They were lying on top of each other, together in final death," Undertaker declared. "That is so very sweet."

"It would be a fitting end for them, they were always close," William replied.

Undertaker rolled his eyes and gave a dark chuckle.

"Right, 'close,'" Undertaker said, his fingers making quotes in the air. He leaned into William's face. "Your eyes are open, Lord William, they were partners. Our First Lieutenant fell in love with his squire. I'd call that quite lovely, though what a tragic end."

"They will be buried together," William answered with a nod.

"A wise decision, I shall certainly attend the funeral," Undertaker replied, then looked back at the two lovers. Both lay together in a river of their own blood. "I do say with great regret we are in need of a new First Lieutenant."

He turned back to William, the way the corners of his mouth stiffened indicated he knew the next thing his king was about to say.

"I would like an audience with Lord Grell myself, tell him he has received a promotion," Undertaker said.

* * *

The leather had been impeccably tanned and reinforced with every charm imaginable to repel mundane and spirit-imbued blades. Then it was dyed a bright, gorgeous shade of red. Grell laid the chest piece on the grass and examined the surface. There were only a few superficial nicks, though he did see a deeper slash or two: nothing that would have ever broken through. It had served its purpose well, though it would need to be repaired.

Grell collected his armor and rose to a stand, walking over to his travel chest and putting the leather on top. A few stray drops of water dripped from his long red hair. That little dip in the pond invigorated him greatly and helped clean off the few wounds he had. He now wore his light red tunic and stood in the grass in his bare feet.

He looked up to see Ronald standing dutifully by the road, oiling and sharpening his long, straight blade. Ronald then looked back with a slightly annoyed expression.

"You bloody done yet?" he called. "I wanna get home before dark and you had to take a ruddy bath."

"If I didn't I would be less pleasant to deal with for the next several hours," Grell huffed.

"Who said you're pleasant to deal with now?" Ronald called back.

Grell smirked at him.

"You know you shouldn't be rude to your superiors," Grell tsked, waving a scolding finger.

"Yeah, you've always followed your own advice."

Grell snickered and walked over to his travel chest, putting on his stockings then sliding his high red boots with black straps over his feet. And up his calves He wanted to relax a bit more, though Ronald was right; it was better to head back to the reaper realm as soon as possible. Grell looked back at Ronald; seeing a few links loose on his chain shirt.

"You need to fix that armor soon, kid," he said. "Or else you'll be poked in rather unpleasant ways."

Ronald glanced back at him, looking like he was about to make a snarky remark. Then he suddenly dropped his sharpening stone and took the wooden pole of his scythe firmly in hand, looking right down the road. Grell then jumped a few feet over and took the metal pole of his own scythe, holding it at the ready for whatever Ronald was looking at.

The sound of hooves and the squeaking of wooden wheels cut through the silence. Soon a covered brown carriage came into view, two robed occupants soon visible under the covering. Grell relaxed his stance a bit and took a few steps closer. Ronald lowered his blade and took a few steps from the road, looking back at Grell and shrugging.

The carriage gradually slowed in front of them, giving the reapers a clear view of a man and a woman. The man was dressed in blue robes with floral embroidery; the women wore a dress of pink and blue silk. They were clearly humans from the Eastern lands, likely simple travelers.

"Good afternoon, my reaper friends," the man said with a light wave.

Ronald's jaw dropped open and Grell furrowed his thinly groomed brows. Grell took a step beside Ronald. The stranger's eyes slightly widened and a smile came over his face.

"I do believe I am in the presence of Lord Grell Sutcliff, Second Lieutenant of the Kingdom of Death," the man said with a bow.

Grell gave a curious smirk, raising his hand and lightly tapping his chin as he studied the traveler. There was a simple answer to this mystery.

"The hell are you talking about?" Ronald snapped.

Grell patted him on the shoulder.

"It's all right Ronald, we are exposed," he said. "Or rather we are seen, I believe by someone with special eyes; a truly gifted human, or is that a cursed human?"

The man bowed his head. The woman simply leaned back on her elbows and regarded the reapers boredly. Her legs were crossed, one bare leg raised in the air. Grell could see exactly where Ronald's gaze went.

"I suppose I'm the one who's exposed now," Lau replied with a chuckle. "I believe my assumption is correct: am I indeed in the presence of the great Lord Grell, the slaughterer of angels?"

Grell snickered, a dainty hand tossing his hair back.

"So you know of my triumphs, oh dear me I love having an audience," he declared. "Perhaps you caught a glimpse of the strife I caused al those winged rats, the trail of their bodies left across that field; the ground stained beautiful crimson with their oh so pure blood."

"I'm sorry you had to see that mess he made, mate," Ronald added, deadpan.

Grell smacked him upside his blond and black-haired head; Ronald just ignored it.

"I did indeed," Lau said with a nod. "You were quite impressive. No wonder why you will be declared the First Lieutenant."

Grell's smile sunk, Ronald snickered madly.

"I beg your pardon," Grell said.

A few more snickers escaped Sir Ronald, he put one hand on his hip.

"Yeah I know how it is, you tell us some prediction of great fortune but we gotta pay to hear more," Ronald laughed. "Sorry, guy, you're selling to the wrong people."

Grell glared at the man. Ronald was right, too many soothsayers liked to sell their services with a few wild predictions.

"That's not exactly amusing," Grell groaned. "The First Lieutenant is a decent man and I would rather not hear him insulted."

Decent by reaper standards yes, though Grell never found him decent by any other standard. No he was not on the best of terms with Lord Eric, though it was only fitting to defend his honor. Eric wasn't even on the scene by the time Grell left, he was probably still in his castle getting drunk: oblivious to his actual duty.

"My apologies if I have offended," Lau said, bowing his head. "I suppose it would be unwise of me to say you, Lord Grell, will soon be named King of Death."

Grell rolled his eyes and Ronald guffawed.

"I like this fellow," Ronald chuckled, looking at Grell and pointing at Lau. "Ya got any more stories? How about me, what do you see for me; just take a poke."

Lau studied Ronald,

"Let me see here: Sir Ronald Knox, third battalion knight, squire of Lord Grell," Lau declared. He then looked at Ran Mao. "What do you think, dear?"

Ran Mao stared hard at Ronald, her empty gaze almost creepy.

"Your name will be on the mouths of all reapers," the women answered with a clumsy command of the common language.

"See, Ronald, you will be a popular fellow," Grell said, patting Ronald on the back.

"Good answer, miss," Ronald said with a nod.

Grell reached into his purse and tossed a few gold pieces to the carriage, Ran Mao caught them with a snap of her wrist.

"There's your pay, soothsayer, now skitter along," Grell huffed, motioning down the road.

Lau gave him a lingering gaze, then nodded and lightly snapped the reins.

"It has indeed been a pleasure, my lord," he said. "I do hope you have a relaxing rest of your day."

Ran Mao gave both of them another dead-eyed gaze, then she looked back at Lau. Lau snapped the reins to put the horses in a light trot; soon the carriage passed from the reapers and went down the road. Grell and Ronald watched the carriage until it was out of view.

"Now wasn't that queer," Ronald said, scratching his head.

"Bloody imbeciles," Grell growled. "He probably thinks reapers will pay him more. How does he know we won't paint the road with him."

"Because we don't do that to living humans, as you were schooled rather well," Ronald replied.

"Oh shush."

Ronald snickered, Grell just walked away rolling his eyes. He opened the chest, picking up his black leather bracers embossed with white skulls and put them back on.

"Ronnie, get ready to be out of here in less than half an hour," Grell said. "I can't stand lingering in this godsforsaken place."

"Yes sir," Ronald replied. "Or should I say, Your Majesty."

Grell chuckled and fastened the last hook on his bracer.

"Amusing, oh one who will be oh so popular," Grell answered. "Don't let it swell your head."

"Hey I ain't the one who's gonna be king," Ronald replied. "Or is that queen in your case."

"Of course," Grell said mockingly, patting his hair.

Ronald laughed and Grell followed along, shaking his head. What bloody nonsense.

Grell picked up his armor and donned it; it needed to be repaired but it would still last the journey. Grell then picked up his scythe, looking at the stubborn drops of angel blood that would need to be more properly cleaned out.

He stood still for a moment, looking down his tone form in its battle-ready splendor. For a moment he imagined himself in a billowing cape, a crowd of reapers standing under him bowing. For a moment he felt a silver crown on his head.

Grell chuckled despite himself and walked over to Ronald.

"Summon the horses and pack them up, kid," Grell said. "We're leaving."

Ronald sighed hard then reached in his bag and produced two black stones. He threw them in the air with an incantation; two black stallions materialized with a puff of smoke and were standing side-by-side right at the ready.

"About bloody time," Ronald groaned.


	2. First Lieutenant

**The Red King**

Disclaimer: All recognizable characters are the property of Yana Toboso and Square Enix, Co. Ltd. I don't own them; I just examine all their possibilities. Storyline based on "Macbeth" by William Shakespeare.

**Chapter 2: First Lieutenant **

Grell kept his pace through the hallway of the castle, keeping step behind this kid sentry. This one met him and Ron the moment they arrived at the gates of the kingdom. Apparently the Undertaker wanted to see Grell right away, some important matter or something. Ron just skipped off, either he was still unloading the trunks or he was already at the pub. Grell dutifully followed the young knight, the kid was good for some chitchat though shut right up the moment they entered the main castle.

They continued down the hall leading to the King's throne room. Grell spied Lord William at the end of the hallway, the steward adjusted the grip on the scythe he held against the shoulder of his doublet; a cross expression on his face as usual.

Grell noted how William was not wearing any armor, just a fine white tunic, black doublet embroidered with a silver stripe pattern, and his usual black cape. It looked like he was back in his usual duty garb; it must have been nice to get that pesky armor off. Grell, meanwhile, still wore the singed and slashed armor he killed angels in. There were still some splashes of deep red against the tanned crimson of Grell's shirt.

William took one look at Grell and marched right over to him; he sentry, Sir Michael, hopped out of the way. He looked cross; he was so handsome when he was cross. Grell briefly admired the way the fabric of his doublet showed off a hint of his tone pectorals. He was a fit man, too bad he only stepped away from his desk when he had no more excuses.

"Just where in Hades have you been," Lord William barked. "I told you to return to base before sunset, I just knew that perimeter sweep you insisted on doing was going to be an excuse to lay around."

"Forgive me, valiant steward," Grell said with a mocking bow, resting a hand on his hip. "If you weren't aware, I was a bit busy today and felt it appropriate to take a bit of rest. Perhaps you should try it sometime, dearest Will."

William walked closer to him and gave him an irritated look.

"You certainly did perform with great ability, Lord Sutcliff," William sneered.

"Oh you really think so?" Grell broke in, putting a hand to the side of his face.

"But you are not above protocol," William finished. "If you weren't aware these are dire circumstances and it is even more important that duties be met to the letter. I gave you a directive that you did not follow. I will not be as tolerant of any more insolence from anyone. Am I understood?"

Grell smiled and shivered a little, savoring the sight of his brow furrow a little deeper.

"Crystal clear, Your Grace," Grell said. "Now I believe I have a hot date with his majesty, I'm sure you wouldn't want to keep him of all people waiting."

William stepped to the side and motioned with his head for Grell and his escort to continue on. The sentry walked forward, avoiding any eye contact with the steward. Grell passed by William, blowing him a kiss and savoring the way he scowled. Grell then stiffened his gait and kept his head up in a proper stance to greet the king. Thankfully His Majesty wasn't nearly the stodgy ass his steward was.

Once upon a time Will was capable of being a little more relaxed. Grell briefly thought on a few times after training when he managed to get William into his bunk, but that was a long time ago. Dedication to duty and getting a big title had way of making one more boring.

Finally they reached the doors to the throne room, Sir Michael stood in front of the black steel double doors, which then creaked open slowly.

The sentry took a step in the room and bowed before the king. The king crossed one leg over the other, one elbow on the arm of his black wood throne and rested his head on his hand. He eyed the young reaper in silver mail with a smirk. He peered behind him and could see the red-clad figure behind him.

"Your Majesty, I present Lord Grell Sutcliff," the sentry said, slowly rising.

Grell stepped a little closer to the kid and gave a little wave, Undertaker waved back with a grin.

"Thank you, Sir Michael, bid Lord Grell to enter then leave us," Undertaker said.

Michael bowed, Grell stepped to his side and walked in the room. Michael was gone a moment later and the doors creaked closed behind him. Grell walked across the bright red velvet rug and approached the ornate throne. The Undertaker rose up in his seat and leered at Grell with an unsettling smile. Grell returned the smile, then gave a low genuflection.

"Your Majesty, Lord Grell Sutcliff, Second Lieutenant to the Kingdom of Death, doth present myself," Grell said dramatically.

"Rise, Lord Grell," Undertaker said.

Grell came back to his feet and looked at his king, eyeing that silver crown on top of his silvery hair. The thought of that band resting on hair of red briefly crossed his mind, but was dismissed; idiotic fantasies

"I came upon a rather interesting sight on the field," Undertaker said with a snicker. "The ground was painted red and sprinkled with little pieces of angel bodies. Like the signature brushstrokes of a painting or the familiar breaths of a pipe performance, I would know your scythe cuts anywhere.

Undertaker laughed louder and clapped.

"Well done, my lord," the king said.

Grell bowed dramatically and grinned.

"I do so appreciate your kind words, my liege," Grell said.

"Now this is what I like to see from you; your abilities used most brutally against those who would dare strike against us," Undertaker said. "As opposed to wasting your time and your resources with some human whores."

Grell's smile stiffened a little, though he snickered in spite of himself.

"I just knew you would bring that up," Grell said through his clenched pointed teeth.

Undertaker chuckled, his crossed leg swinging back down and both boot soles resting on the floor.

"Consider it a compliment," Undertaker said, leaning forward. "A remark on how far you have come in a mere few years. I once saw a man who was uninspired, restless, locked in the struggle between succumbing to the bottle or succumbing to fatal ennui. Then that ravishing, vengeful sorceress came along; or rather you followed her along. It was all curses, screams, and evisceration from there."

"That was but a short while ago by our lifetimes, yet I consider that dark time behind me," Grell replied in a strained tone.

"And for that I'm glad, it showed my advocacy for you was well placed. If Lord William had his way you would still be rotting in a cell somewhere, but I just saw that as a waste of talent. You just needed a little slap in the right places, and look at you now. How many of our enemies are in pieces thanks to you?"

"I will forever be in your debt, my king," Grell said with a bow, trying not to growl out every word.

If this topic were never whispered of in the remaining history of the realms Grell would be the gladder for it. Instead it was only now that the twitters and jeers about that whole mess were starting to die down.

"And here you are, proving yourself as a most able knight," Undertaker said. "Now that beautiful, venomous sorceress is your bride. How does Lady Angelina fare?"

Grell chuckled, the king snickered a little in return. How kind of him to bring all that up. Grell could come up with some colorful answers to this, but he bit his tongue.

"She fares well, my liege," Grell replied as evenly as he could. "And I certainly cannot wait to be back in her company."

And the company of the hired boys he regularly kept around. Gods knew she had her own bevy of bedwarmers.

"I assure you, Lord Grell, you will be back with her soon," Undertaker snickered. "You certainly deserve it. Alas we have some business to take care of first, and I fear it is rather ghastly business at that. We sustained heavy losses, though I am sure you are already aware."

"Regretfully so, I watched man of our brethren perish to those abhorable creatures," Grell replied with a sigh, putting a hand to his chest.

"I am not sure if you are aware but our First Lieutenant was found among the dead."

Grell stared blankly at Undertaker, his mouth dropped open and his heart pounded.

"Lord Eric?" Grell gasped.

Undertaker nodded and put out his foot, stretching his calf.

"I assume that was news to you," the king said.

"I was not even aware Lord Eric was on the battlefield," Grell said, trying to find his breath. "All the officers reported at the same time, Eric was not among them."

"Perhaps not, but Lord William and I discovered his corpse. He was found lying right over the equally deceased body of his fair Sir Alan."

"Oh dear Gods," Grell gasped, putting a hand to his head. "Poor Alan, he had suffered with the Thorns for so long. Lord Eric and Sir Alan died valiantly protecting their kinsmen side by side. No more fitting end if tragedy should take us."

"You took the words right out of my mouth, so lovely and so tragic were these two. I would speculate that Eric came out to protect the man he loved, but we can speculate all we want. Though the truth plainly remains that our First Lieutenant is lying in a coffin right now."

Grell slowly lowered his hand to his side and gazed at the king. He knew what he would say next, though a part of him did not believe he was actually going to hear it.

"Therefore, Lord Grell Sutcliff, I now declare you my First Lieutenant," Undertaker said.

Grell's mouth dropped open again, his lower lip trembling.

"Me, my liege?" Grell cautiously asked. "You want me as your First Lieutenant?"

Undertaker nodded, that crown bobbing on his head.

"I shall declare you formally tomorrow morning, after our dead are properly buried," Undertaker said with a hand to his heart.

Grell respectfully bowed his head in response.

"In the meantime I will choose an able Second Lieutenant," Undertaker continued. "Please do keep this knowledge to yourself, wouldn't want to spoil the party would we?"

Grell bowed low.

"Thank you so very much," Grell said. "I am truly not worthy of this honor."

Undertaker waved a dismissive hand and leaned lover the arm of his throne.

"No need to be humble, all the spoils are yours," the king said. "Lord Will shall give you all the details of the ceremony and all that. Now I have some preparations to do; work first, party later. I trust you can see your way out."

Grell nodded excitedly.

"Thank you again, my king, I shall perform my duties most ably," Grell said.

"Oh I trust you shall, now get on with you," Undertaker said, waving to Grell.

Grell bowed again and walked to the double doors, the doors opened and he walked out of the throne room into the hall. His boots walked across the red embroidered rug with a spring in his step.

The words floated through his mind:

"No wonder why you will be declared the First Lieutenant."

The corner of Grell's mouth quirked into a smirk. He shook his head a little and walked toward his quarters.

* * *

The sound of frantic knocking came from outside Grell's door.

"Sir, it's me," came Ronald's voice.

Grell smiled as he reclined back in his favorite red chair wearing a comfortable white cotton tunic, a chalice of wine in his hand and his bare feet mounted on a hassock. He just knew Ronnie would be along any time now. Grell waved a hand and the bolt and chain on the door unfastened.

"It's open," Grell practically sang as he took another sip.

The knob turned and Ronald practically shoved the door open, then stepped in the room and looked at Grell with wild eyes. Grell smiled a little wider, he knew what this was all about.

"Care for a glass?" he asked, pointing to a silver chalice and the pitcher already on the table.

Ronald nodded the walked to the table, hurriedly pouring himself a cup with a bit of spillage then taking a rough gulp. He then shuffled over to Grell and sat in the chair opposite from him.

"You do realize you're being a bit familiar with your master, squire," Grell said with a light huff.

"Sorry," Ronald said halfheartedly.

In truth Grell and Ronald really didn't maintain too many formalities; Grell was fond of chiding. If Ronald really annoyed him he would slam these formalities over his head. Right now he was in a jovial mood.

"Lord Eric's dead," Ronald said in a hard whisper.

Grell sipped his glass, then nodded somberly; suddenly remembering a few things.

"I assume the word is going round?" Grell asked.

Ronald nodded back.

"My condolences, Ronald, I know you and he were friends," Grell said.

Ron sighed hard, then shrugged.

"Wasn't like we were close or nothin'; we'd drink together from time to time, compete for the best girls," Ronald replied. "We just…we had some good times now and then. Look I know you two didn't get on that well, to me at least he seemed like a great guy. It's too bloody bad, y'know? And Alan too, bloody hell."

Grell pulled his feet off the hassock and sat straight up, raising his glass.

"To Eric and Alan, may they find peace in the next realm," Grell said.

Ronald raised his glass quietly. They remained quiet for a moment, then both took a swig.

"There's another interesting rumor that's been going round, it's about you in particular," Ronald said, staring hard at Grell.

Grell raised his brows with a look of perplexity, but he had a good idea what this was about.

"I'm sure there's a lot of rumors going round about me, always is," Grell replied, taking a sip.

"Nah this one's a bit more recent, not to mention a bit bloody creepy considering our little visitor on the road. Is it true you're now First Lieutenant?"

Grell reclined back in his chair with a smirk.

"First Lieutenant? Now who would be talking about such a thing?" Grell said.

"Practically everyone," Ron replied. "Someone who knows a guy who knows a guy overhearin' something His Rotted Majesty said. Is it true?"

"Are you asking me to share knowledge the king may or may not have asked me to keep confidential?"

"Hey if it's true you got my word, I won't confirm a bloody thing to no one," Ronald said raising a hand. "Not like no one's leaked it yet anyway."

Grell looked over at Ron, seeing the kid practically on the edge of his seat waiting to hear the news.

"Why yes, Ronald, it is true," Grell declared.

"Bugger me," Ron chuckled.

"It's a secret until tomorrow morning, so I'll take you at your word you won't go blabbing."

"Hey swear to the gods, you got my word," Ronald sad, raising his hand again. "Damn it's just like that kook on the road said."

"Oh yes, just like he said," Grell replied sarcastically. "The blighter probably saw Eric get killed and thought he would impress me."

"Yeah but how the hell would he know the king would name you?"

"Oh please, somehow he already knew I was Second Lieutenant; not exactly a stretch."

"So it was guaranteed to be you? How do you know the old bag of bones wouldn't have chosen someone else? Not like you got the cleanest record."

"Thank you so much for mentioning that, dearest Ronald," Grell huffed. "His majesty went quite into depth about that same record and I would just love to hear more about it."

"Just callin' a spade a spade," Ron replied with a shrug. "Don't you find it kinda spooky this one human would know all this? Yeah he mighta seen some stuff as it was, but there's too many coincidences. I think he really did foresee something."

"Cheap parlor tricks, Ronald, nothing more," Grell sighed, waving a dismissing hand and sipping his wine.

"Don't you hope he was right about that other thing?" Ronald said, sitting up in his chair and grinning at Grell. "He did peg you for First Lieutenant, just maybe…"

"Oh gods, you can't be serious," Grell replied.

"Well why not? As I believe he predicted you being First Lieutenant, maybe he saw something more interesting. I mean even you and I didn't know about Lord Eric, we didn't even know he was going to be there in the first place. Maybe this bloke got another vision of something we ain't seeing yet."

"Even if you're right, and you're not, me being First Lieutenant was remotely plausible. Me being king, me succeeding the Undertaker, the Undertaker being succeeded at all? That's all pure comedy."

"Is it really? Think about it, how long's the king been on the throne? Hundreds of years, maybe a thousand? We do get old, that's a known fact. How many stories have all of us heard of his glorious battles and how many angels, demons, undead, and whoever else he's cut apart? You hear any recent stories? You think he woulda passed up fighting today if he was a lot more spry? All he does is just sit on his throne and walk around from time to time. I hear rumors all the time the guy ain't gonna maintain power for too much longer, that he's let slip to a couple people he's gonna retire someday."

"Probably the same rumors that have floated around since I was a squire and that was over a century ago. Even if the old bugger were to abdicate, I doubt I would be his ideal next in line. He's got a well-trained little lapdog for that."

Ronald shrugged and sipped his drink.

"Then again don't the king and Lord William hate each other. I don't exactly get a warm fuzzy feeling when I see them together," Ron said. "Anything they do say to each other sounds like a lot of sniping."

"Well that's not an inaccurate observation," Grell muttered. "However Will turns his pointy nose up at everyone, even His Majesty. Just because they're not the best of chums, that doesn't mean Undertaker thinks any higher of me. I was certainly reminded of that today even as he was placing honors around me. No Ronald, there isn't a chance in hell that I will ever be king."

Grell's own words somehow produced a minor sting within himself.

"Then why would the seer chap even say anything?" Ronald asked.

"I don't know, probably to mock me. Even if he did predict my current honors, he likely added the king bit as an offhand joke."

Ronald cocked his head then nodded.

"You're probably right, it's still fun to think on at least," Ron replied, taking a swig from his goblet. "King Grell."

Grell sat up a little higher in his chair and straightened his posture in an exaggerated manner, putting his nose in the air.

"Me as ruler of all of the Death Realm," Grell said in a haughty tone. "Silver would look so good on with my hair. I'd at least redecorate that blasted throne room. I'm sure those banners have been there since the old codger has been in power."

Ronald nearly spat out his wine and slapped his knee in laughter. Grell chortled and sank back onto his chair sipping his own cup. Yes the whole thought was such a laugh; everything he did was a laugh. Lord Grell the crazy poof was just a big bloody joke, wasn't he? Grell tried to keep his smile in place despite this thought.

* * *

The burial of a reaper was always a sacred occasion in the Death Realm. Removed from the mortal coil and vulnerable to only the most spirit charged illnesses and attacks, death for a reaper was rare. For the brethren the death of one of their own always hit hard. Those who passed from eternity were always given a solemn and sacred burial, preferably on the sacred ground known as the Gray Plains.

Through the night the reaper's goblin servitors gathered on the Gray Plains and dug one hole after another. By daybreak their grim work was done, the creatures shuffled back to their caves. In a lumber yard somewhere else, another group of goblins prepared a mass of coffins.

When the sun was higher a horde of reapers marched on the plains. At the head of the procession was the king himself, his court or lieutenants and advisors close behind. Grell walked in step five feet behind William; the gap representing their departed First Lieutenant.

The dead were lined up in their casks; even if only a few pieces could be recovered they were properly placed in the full-sized coffins. The king made a grand speech in honor of the fallen. A cleric committed their spirits to the gods, though no one really knew what happened to the spirits of reapers who had passed from the planes.

One by one the fallen were interred by name. The last bodies to go in were Lord Eric Slingby and beside him Sir Alan Humphries. Grell watched the two go in with a solemn look. No he never cared for Eric, but he would certainly have never have wished this. He played that statement over and over again in his head; it managed to conjure some heaviness in his chest but only for a few seconds. The one thought he had as the last of the silver sand went over Lord Eric's cask was a thanks for the new opportunity.

Later the collective gathered in front of the grand castle, the king gave the requisite speech to his flock.

"We have heard nothing from the angels, though we know there are a few remaining foes limping about," Undertaker announced. "We are now working with our allies to drag up some answers that will lead to justice."

Grell glanced over at William, seeing his nose wrinkle a bit though he maintained his usual stoic demeanor.

"I swear our brothers will be avenged," the king calmly declared.

A roaring cheer rose from the collective, though Grell hardly heard a battle cry in those words. He barely heard any power at all, such was the king's manner but to Grell something seemed a little more muted.

The king then presented honors and accolades to the bravest and most able soldiers. Grell was the first called up; he was presented with commendations for his prowess in battle and for saving the lives of other reapers. The crowd cheered at each declaration, though it was the occasional jeer and insult that stood out to him most.

At last he kneeled before the king, the silver medallion of the First Lieutenant bestowed around his neck. He kissed the king's skull ring then rose to more cheers. Grell waved to the crowd; every eye was on him now. He was the hero, he was the able warrior, everyone for good or ill was talking about him. If only he were standing a little higher.

Then he was dismissed with a nod of the head. As soon as it began his moment of glory was over. He stepped to the side to join the rest of the company, the others who performed valiantly receiving their own sacred adulation. In a minute Grell was just one of the crowd again. He watched one of his colleagues Roger Middleton, a short man with slightly spiky black hair, declared Second Lieutenant. He bowed at his successor for the title, receiving a respectful bow in return. How glorious it felt to be just one step above.

Eventually accolades were passed, the speeches were done; everyone scattered to their own respective states of mourning, celebration, or business as usual. Grell hung about through the day, spent some time with some of the younger knights he had helped train, savored all the congratulations and currying favor (sincere or otherwise). He planned to spend just one more night in the castle before returning home. Grell's role in this whole calamity was done for the time being and this realm was getting mustier by the minute.

After a few ales with Ronald and some of the kids, he returned to his room to pack a trunk to take back to his manor at the edge of the human realm. He was ready to return to his own territory. After all this he was actually missing his dearest wife.

The thought put a sad grimace on his face as he packed his trunk. They had barely spoken before he left, too busy with their respective business or so they would say to their servants and guests. Now he was actually looking forward to some of their usual conversations. She was always good for a laugh and they would gossip like fiends, though as of late that was all they had left of their relationship.

Grell knew he would be going back to a solitary castle and occasionally cross paths with the lady of the house. It was a sad state, but Grell knew he should have expected it. Infatuation, idealism, and fantasy never translated into anything permanent or stable.

When they were first together he swore he was in love with her, she fascinated him to no end; such a cold hearted murderess of such power. He wanted to help her carry put her revenge against unappreciative whores. He was even willing to tolerate the closeness of a woman's body; after all she wasn't just any woman, she was dearest Angelina.

When their escapades were exposed he escaped harsh punishment thanks to the king, though she was a fugitive with a price on her head. Grell felt it was his duty to shelter her. Their passion for each other was so strong they even married, she became Lady Angelina and he was willing to take the role of a woman's husband. They were supposed to live happily ever after like any fairy tale, though Grell often forgot the ideal is never the reality.

Grell blocked the thought from his head as he finished packing. It was all such unpleasantness. Perhaps now after surviving a battle that had claimed his most stalwart colleagues, now that he had his accolades in hand, perhaps this was the turning of the proverbial new leaf.

He would probably return home to find her holed up in her study working on new spells, most likely she would be accompanied by whatever strapping young apprentice was her favorite of the moment. Or maybe they would actually tolerate sharing a bed, it as all up to their tempers and the fates.

Before going to bed he did pen her a note. It something short and sweet, basically letting her know he was alive if she heard any rumors and announcing his impending return the next morning. After he was done he sealed the envelope then walked over to the octagonal glass box hanging from the ceiling. He imagined the location of the envelope, then slipped it inside the slot in the box. The envelope floated in the box for a moment, the glass glowed blue and with a white flash the envelope was gone and to its destination. Grell then settled into bed, feeling a little more relaxed and even more eager to return home.

He awoke bright and early aiming to get back home as soon as possible. As he collected the last of his things, the message box then glowed with a bright red pulse; an envelope now inside. Grell rolled his eyes he knew exactly what this was. The pulsating light meant this was important and from a high place. Grell walked to the box and opened the glass door with a huff, picking out the envelope and seeing the light dim and the glass return to its normal hue. He then ripped open the envelope, this has better have been a goodbye memorandum.

"Lord Grell, your presence is requested at an urgent meeting of the Court. Be at the King's hall at half-morning."

Grell flung the message across the room. This was certainly annoying, though not unsurprising. Perhaps there were some urgent developments, or perhaps the old coot wanted an excuse to keep everyone around a little longer. Regardless Grell dressed properly in his nice red leather doublet and burgundy cape and then phased to the hallway outside the throne room at the appointed time.

A sentry was right at the doors and nodded in greeting, then opened the doors and allowed him in. Grell nodded back and walked into the throne room, the doors closing behind him. The king was right there on his perch all the other members of the court standing on the floor around him. Some of the others nodded in greeting, others just looked at him, some didn't even bother; the king did wave when he saw Grell and Grell waved back.

Lord William was there obviously as was Lord Roger, most of the corporals were there and more were filing in. Standing beside the king practically in one huddle were the nobly dressed, white-haired councilors. Technically this panel was even above William himself, but they were mostly regarded as advisors; the king was inarguably the one in charge.

After a few minutes everyone was accounted for. Undertaker counted off everyone with a bony finger then smiled in satisfaction.

"Good, I see everyone's here," the king said.

He leapt up from the throne and stood in the middle of the floor, the company surrounding him. Undertaker slowly walked around the circle, eyeing everyone around him. When he met Grell's gaze, Grell gave a merry grin; Undertaker smiled a little wider then moved onto the guy next to him. The king then stopped in the middle of the circle.

"My apologies for the rather short notice, though I just couldn't wait any longer to share the exciting news," Undertaker said, shaking his body with these last few words. "We have had a very eventful few days indeed and I know all of you are looking forward to returning to your usual cushy surroundings."

His eyes fell on William as he said this, then he looked at Grell and the rest of them.

"Don't worry, you shall all be able to get on with yourselves soon, though there are a few developments of which you should all be aware," the Undertaker continued. "We have not heard from our angelic friends since they showered us with their awesome presence. However we do have a few preliminary leads. As of now the task of tracking down and dealing with our foes belongs to our new friends on that much warmer plane."

Grell saw William's upper lip curl and his eyes narrow in disgust. Grell smiled a little in response. Undertaker looked right at William and nodded.

"Indeed, I am speaking of those friends in particular," Undertaker said. "Last night I had a little private chat with Lord Sebastian and some of his flock. As of now our demon allies are tracking down the angels as we speak."

Grell could see William do all he could not to roll his eyes, his cheeks were now a light shade of pink. Was prim and proper little William getting truly angry? There were a few similar expressions around the circle, especially from the councilors; narrowed eyes, tight mouths, postures suddenly a bit more upright. No one said anything; everyone knew any words were a waste of breath. Everyone could just reluctantly nod.

"For now this matter is in our hands only loosely, everything that happens from this moment on is plainly a mystery," the king said with a little sigh and dramatic shrug. "We do need to be on our guards, prepared to spring into action. Our next role might be as warriors or it may be as diplomats, likely both. In either event I will require the able counsel and leadership or everyone in this room."

Everyone nodded and gave their own respective words or grunts of agreement.

"And now I get to be the bearer of exciting news; one reaper's role in particular will need to change a bit," Undertaker continued.

Grell's polite smile relaxed, one thought went through his head. It was one wild, impossible thought though in the past day the wild and impossible proved itself capable of happening.

"I shall require a man capable of working a bit more independently and he will receive a few extra powers to his job description."

The thought was now screaming in Grell's mind. He tried to shove it out with reason, though the fantasy was growing a bit larger. He could hear the words: the role of First Lieutenant would be expanded to more of a warlord. All the jewels and praises presented to Grell yesterday proved the king certainly thought highly of him. What would happen from there?

"I need someone right next to me with a little more force than a mere pen pusher."

The king did an about face right to William. Grell's heart slid into his stomach and his postured dropped a little. Such was the penance for believing in fantasies.

"Lord William your duties are going to change," Undertaker declared, walking a few steps close to William.

William's eyes widened a bit and he looked right at the king.

"You will remain the Steward, though I now give you the title of Duke," Undertaker said.

Undertaker pulled a silver ring with a black stone from his pocket, then took William's left hand and placed the ring on his index finger. William's mouth dropped open and he looked like one more nudge would knock him over. Grell's stomach tightened a bit.

"My liege, I don't know what to say," William weakly replied.

"There's nothing to say, Duke William," the king replied. "As of now I do request that this one title remain between all of us until I make a formal announcement. Such an announcement will not be made until your role is more clearly defined."

William's look of astonishment subtly changed to one of annoyance. Grell felt almost relieved, maybe this wasn't as much of a grand accolade as he suspected.

Undertaker stepped back, clearly intending to say more.

"Duke William will have the power to act in my stead when I give him leave to," Undertaker explained. "If we are soon to be at war I will want someone with satellite powers to help manage the affairs of the kingdom. I will need to split myself in to essentially, though as we all know that would be rather inefficient. So you, Your Highness, are now my eyes, ears, and hands for whatever end I need you to serve."

William's expression did not change all that much. Clearly he was hearing something he didn't find all that promising.

"And if we find ourselves in a time of peace?" William asked.

Undertaker gave a feral grin.

"Now comes the fun part," Undertaker said.

Grell's heart pounded, a hundred opposing thoughts coursing through his mind with one conclusion.

"If wonders but wonders everything is peaceful: the angels are dealt with, it's boring business as usual, then you shall remain my clone," Undertaker declared. "I do love the thought of getting an extra set of hands. In addition you will also become my apprentice. For the next few decades, the number to be determined, I shall teach you the fine art of being me."

Grell felt his knees buckle though he kept himself standing. He didn't want to hear what he had to say next but he knew full well what he would hear. Judging by William's gaping mouth he did as well.

"And when the time is right, you shall become me in a sense: when the time is right, I shall be stepping down from this throne and handing this crown over to you."

A collective gasp went up from the group. Members of the court twittered amongst themselves, others just stood there with wide eyes and slack jaws. The councilors gave a few shouts of outrage that the king ignored; apparently he hadn't filled them in on his plans. Grell felt ill, he wanted to sink down in a hole in the floor. William's complexion was now bone white, he stared hard at the king, his mouth wide open.

Undertaker took a step back and looked at everyone in the group with a pleased smile, then slowly nodded as if in regret.

"It's been a fun time, though perhaps even this must come to an end," the king sighed. "I'm getting tired, I'm not as quick with a scythe as I once was. The old guard is just that, old."

Undertaker walked to William and put a good-natured hand on his shoulder. William looked like he wanted to bite it off.

"William, I know you and I have had our differences of opinion, but I have always found you a most able leader," the king said. "These past few decades you have been a talented steward, which is why I believe you are the best man to lead this rabble. I shall train you in the ways of ruling this place, though naturally the way you rule is indeed up to you."

"And when shall that be, my liege," William asked in a growl.

"A few decades as I said," Undertaker replied. "Depending on how quick a learner you are and certainly depending on the fickle nature of our business. I would say as early as twenty-five years, possibly as late as fifty."

Undertaker pulled his hand from William's shoulder and faced the group again.

"Meaning you all are still stuck with me for the next quarter or half a century," Undertaker said. "I'm sure there is plenty of damage we can do in the meantime."

William's mouth closed and Grell saw the muscles in his jaw tighten right up. He was not taking this news graciously, though for why was a bit of an interesting mystery. The thought was soothing to his wounded ego.

"I will ask you all to keep my little announcement in these walls," Undertaker said, motioning a finger around the room. "This is a detail I am only sharing with my trusted companions, and yes I do trust all of you. As I have said, we are in a precarious position; all plans for the future need to be made. There's already so many juicy rumors floating about, I really don't need anything else. This is all for your ears only; do I have your word you won't go blabbing?"

Grell nodded and gave his word, everyone around the circle did as well from simply saying "I swear it" to bowing low.

"Good, because if I do hear a few buzzings of this kind I'll have a general idea who leaked it. If I don't know the specific hole, I will just have to fill up all possible weaknesses," the king sneered. "I'm sure you all catch my meaning."

Everyone nodded, some with blanched visages and nervous looks.

"Excellent," Undertaker responded with a smile. "Now I believe I have said all I have needed to say. Go about your business now, though you all shall hear from me very soon. You're all dismissed."

Undertaker waved his hands to shoo everyone away. Most members of the court continued to stand in shocked awe for a moment, then some of the corporals walked off with a bow; soon everyone else followed. The councilors walked off in a tight huddle, likely they would regroup in private to scream.

Grell gave a grand bow, seeing the king smile and nod as he passed by. He couldn't stand the sight of the old bastard right now, he just wanted to get out of there and get back home.

Grell soon joined the others in leaving the chamber, though out of the corner of his eye he saw William march right up to the king, face contorted in anger.

"We're not done here," William barked at the king. "I am certainly not leaving until I have some explanations."

Some members of the group slowed their steps and looked back at the new Duke. Grell slowed his step a bit though he only subtly glanced back. He saw the king hold up a hand bidding peace, his smile firmly in place.

"And I can certainly provide once we have some bloody privacy," the king said, raising his tone and looking at everyone in the room.

Everyone's pace quickened including Grell's.

"I believe I am owed as much," William hissed at the king in a lower tone.

Grell walked from the room, looking back for a moment and seeing William practically in the king's face. Soon the doors closed, the silence wards were in place, and the show was officially over.


	3. Lady of the House

**The Red King**

Disclaimer: All recognizable characters are the property of Yana Toboso and Square Enix, Co. Ltd. I don't own them; I just examine all their possibilities. Storyline based on "Macbeth" by William Shakespeare.

**Chapter 3: Lady of the House**

The wide marble patio in the garden was the location where Grell usually phased between his home to the reaper stronghold. When the summons came two days ago for emergency response for the angel attack he ran through the rose garden and leapt onto the stones, phasing right to the battle. There were no farewells; Angelina was in another part of the castle to her business and he didn't even think to look for her. He just left to his duty, or rather the promise of fun slaughter.

That was two days ago and now with a thought his feet were once again on these smooth stones and he was inhaling the aroma of the lush roses surrounding him. Grell smiled and looked forward, seeing the handsome little castle but a few feet from him. Finally he was out of the cold, staid Death Realm and back to the comfort of home.

Grell took a jovial skip off the patio and walked down the pathway, his bag slung over his shoulder and the arched gate of the garden getting closer. Suddenly a figure appeared in the middle of the path: a sight of pure beauty. Her curves were encased in a red silk dress with a black leather bodice. He loved this dress, he had borrowed it more than a few times but it looked infinitely more stunning on her. Her red hair fell to the base of her pale neck; those ruby lips were turned up in a smile.

Grell stopped in his tracks and gazed at her: his darling Madam Red. Angelina stood still with her arms at her sides; her bright, mahogany eyes were set on his. Both then reached out at the same time; her arms flew around his shoulders, his hands took hold of her waist and pulled her in. Their lips met and they kissed in relieved passion. She took hold on the back of his neck and kissed the side of his mouth.

"Oh gods how good it is to be home," Grell said softly.

"How good it is that you're alive," Angelina replied, a small crack in her voice.

Grell smiled and pulled back a little, looking in her eyes.

"Did I scare you, darling?"

"Terribly," she replied, leaning in and kissing him again.

For the first time in too long he enjoyed the feel of her lips and the heat of her body. She was Angelina to him now; for too long she had just been the woman in his house, now she was truly his wife.

She wrapped her arms around him and rested her head on his shoulder.

"There were stories going through the planes though no one knew anything particular," Madam Red said. "All anyone said was hundreds of reapers died, some said the whole court was wiped out. I feared you had been killed, then I got your note last night."

She held him tighter on these words; he rubbed her back in response.

"You truly did fear for me," he said, kissing her cheek.

She kept her position for a moment and nodded her head, a tear streaking down her face. Grell was tempted to say something but that was all the response he needed. He held her closer and kissed her again.

"I'm here now, love," he replied.

They held each other for a long moment, then she pulled back and took his hand; giving him a knowing look. He smiled back, reading every one of her intentions in her face. Now he wanted this, he gladly let himself be lead away down the path and toward the castle. They were practically running when they got through the gate and across the threshold.

He savored the smell of the candles and the flower vases set around; the clean stone walls and colorful tapestries were a sight for sore eyes. Grell now had the best view running through the hallway behind Angelina like two children. She pulled him up the spiral stone stairs, both tripping a bit then regaining their footing. Then she threw open the door of the master bedroom and yanked him in, slamming the door behind them.

Hands were soon undoing buttons and hooks, peeling off articles of clothing and throwing them on the red flower carpet. Her hands explored his bare chest; he peeled off the rest of her dress. Soon they were both stripped of their fineries and fully revealed to each other.

He admired her curves for a moment. The body of a woman held no interest to him, though this was Angelina's body; he savored her mere being. Her eyes were running all over him for a moment, Grell wondered if she saw him or if she just saw a man's body. The thought was fleeting as hands explored and lips trailed down bare flesh.

Soon he was on top of the soft burgundy comforter, she straddled over him and enthusiastically took him inside her. She moved her hips with great skill; he bucked his torso up to meet her rhythm. She caressed his chest; he ran his hands up her body and lightly cupped her breasts. Sighs and moans then yells escaped them, gentle bucking became rough thrusts and hands grabbed flesh and hair hard.

Angelina looked so beautiful over him snarling like an animal and covered in sweat. Angelina looked down at Grell and savored how his pointed teeth clenched and how his red hair whipped back when she twisted her hips the right way around him. One sight of this was enough to make her come once with a scream then keep going for another round. It was the second time he heard her cry out and felt her throbbing around his flesh that he gave a loud yell and released inside her. She collapsed beside him and they remained on the bed in a sweaty heap.

Angelina looked into his haunting green eyes and watched him panting and smiling. She did wonder for a moment if they truly had made love or if she just pleasured him. She knew she would have been a pleasure toy and not a lover; men were lovers for him, though a part of her kept the hope she was still his muse. Angelina let the thought go, he was here after all and alive. No matter what had happened between them up to two days ago, this was all that mattered now.

She ran a hand through his hair; he kissed her wrist. Her eyes then met a few angry red cuts near his right elbow. Angelina gently grabbed his arm in concern and took a better look at the wounds. Reaper healing cleared any wounds of a physical nature; she knew anything from a small scratch to decapitation could heal within a day. These, however, lingered; likely from an angel's weapon.

"Did you get these from battle?" she asked.

Grell smiled a little wider, An was truly concerned.

"Ah yes, one of the few places a holy sword managed to get me," he said with a little sigh. "It's nothing deep, merely a scratch. You should have seen the marks I left on them."

Angelina took a closer look at the marks. They were ugly looking but indeed superficial, it appeared they were starting to heal. She gently laid a hand over the wounds, concentrating her energy. A blue glow emitted from her palm and washed over the wound. This was clearly a spirit-based wound, these ones were much more resistant to magical healing though they were too shallow to be too resistant.

The cuts faded, the lingering ache in Grell's skin faded to perfect comfort. The glow from her fingers dissipated and Angelina slowly drew her hand back. The wounds had faded to just a few lingering pink streaks.

Grell snickered and ran a hand through her hair, then leaned in to kiss her.

"Why thank you," he said.

She shrugged in response with a little smile.

"I suppose the healer's instincts still remain," she replied.

Grell gave a sad smile.

"And you are certainly one of the most talented healers I have ever known," Grell replied. "And the most talented conjurer and enchanter, what more could I add to that list?"

She smiled and kissed him again, then looked on him with a concerned gaze.

"What really happened back there, Grell?" Angelina asked. "Everyone in the planes has their own stories."

Grell gazed at her and grimaced, gently running a finger over her bare shoulder.

"I am sure your healer's instincts have made you aware of the rampant sickness in Shenly," he replied.

"I've heard much about it, I believe it's called the Marsh Fever" Angelina said with a nod.

"We've been very busy over there, teams of reapers have been coming in and out by the hour. The story I heard is a battalion of hostile angels swooped down set upon one shift exiting the village. More of ours came in, more of theirs came in, and we had a full on nightmare. That's when I decided to join the fun. We buried eighty of our brethren yesterday, seventy are still in beds, who knows how many more have splashes of red still on their flesh."

Angelina caressed the side of his face in response.

"I'm sorry, Grell," she said. "I know you're not exactly chummy with your kind, but they're still your blood. That has to be hard."

Grell nodded, though it was time for the real news.

"It was a bitter day, though victory certainly sweetened it," Grell replied with a sigh. "We took heavy losses in all ranks. Obviously the court wasn't wiped out; the king wasn't even there, William got his hands dirty but made it out, and I'm obviously in your presence. The court, alas, wasn't unscathed; Eric Slingby is dead."

Angelina looked in Grell's eyes, her eyebrows slightly raised.

"How terrible," she replied. "I assumed you have amply mourned him?"

Grell gazed back with a smirk.

"As much as he deserved," he responded with a giggle. "No, madam, he has not received any of my tears nor will he ever get them."

Madam Red gave a dirty chuckle that Grell returned.

"Alas his playmate Alan Humphries met his final end as well," Grell continued with a more serious expression.

"That is certainly tragic, though perhaps he was due a quick, glorious end after all he has endured."

"My thoughts exactly."

Angelina kissed his cheek; he ran a hand through her hair.

"Now who will the Undertaker choose as a new First Lieutenant?" Angelina asked.

Grell's mouth curved into a wide smile and he met her gaze. She pulled away a little, that grin telling her he was going to say something rather intriguing.

"My dear, you are now sharing a bed with the new First Lieutenant," he declared.

She threw her arms around him and placed a crushed her lips against his. He kissed her back with just as much force, a snicker sneaking out.

"Oh gods that's wonderful!" she proclaimed. "I'm so very happy!"

"So am I, darling, so am I. The old coot named me right after the melee; I got my pretty jewels at yesterday's ceremony.

"It's about bloody time you got some honors."

"I certainly agree, though of course the motley one had to get his digs in as he gave it to me. Wouldn't be as fun for him otherwise."

"Naturally, though you get to stick this in everyone's stuffy little face."

"And I am going to take great pleasure doing so."

He kissed her again to accentuate the point, their lips locked and their arms wrapped around each other in a moment of pure warmth. She pulled back slightly with a small frown.

"Your people are now at war, aren't they?" Angelina asked.

Grell cocked his head with a small grimace.

"Honestly we really don't know," he replied, running his fingers through a few strands of her hair. "The angels retreated and to my knowledge no one has heard anything else. It appears this was more an ambush than any kind of declaration. The king says he has a few of our allies looking into matters; specifically dearest Bassie."

Angelina's eyes slightly widened.

"So the king is utilizing that alliance," she replied. "A perfect opportunity, I would say."

"And I would say the same. So keep an ear open, perhaps little Ciel will drop some bits of gossip on what tricks his dog is doing the next time you play chess with him."

"I doubt he would tell me too much about that, I doubt even Sebastian would tell him anything sensitive. Sebastian may be Ciel's guardian and his attack dog; Ciel is however merely human and Sebastian has higher masters."

"Though Ciel is the queen's ambassador, I am sure Her Majesty has taken keen interest in that plague. The battle was out of her realm, though she's probably heard tidings from her mages and seers. I'm sure the Arch Mages themselves are in her court as we speak."

Grell thought briefly on those idiots he and Ron met on the road. That would be a droll story for later. He clearly noticed the corned of her mouth sink down a bit at the reference to the Arch Mages.

"That is true, Ciel might try to pull some of your gossip from me," she replied. "Though Ciel is even more careful with his words around me, I am sure you know why."

Grell nodded with great understanding.

"Oh yes indeed," Grell replied. "It still amazes me you still talk to the little brat."

Her sudden scowl told him he should have kept his mouth shut. He was scowling plenty when the Undertaker brought up this whole mess; he knew this was still a festering sore for her too.

"As I've said how many times before, Grell; he is still my nephew," Angelina responded in a pointed tone. "We are among the only family either of us has left, though we all know that has no bearing on his duties. I can bear no ill will to a hunting dog who sniffs out his prey."

Grell gazed at her and smiled; though she had an odd feeling he was going to push this even further.

"You have indeed made some peace, especially with the fact he is still alive," Grell replied.

Angelina gave him a dark look, though she wasn't snapping or staring daggers at him.

"Yes, Grell, I suppose I have made my peace with what was inevitable and I count my blessings every day that I was as lucky as I was…that we both were" she replied, trying to hold down the bile rising in her throat at this whole topic. "I understand Sebastian well enough to know I am alive because I didn't attack his master. How many of your bones did he break and how much of your flesh did he tear off? I know damn well he would have done the same to me if I went further."

Now it was Grell's turn to have a nerve hit.

"True, instead he bade you to run and William would peel my carcass off the stones so he could dropkick me into a cell," Grell responded.

He leaned his face further into Angelina's, seeing her expression grow tenser.

"And we both know Ciel would later slip a word to the Arch Mages about your indiscretions," he continued. "And you would be stripped of all your dignity and cast out of the kingdom on penalty of death like a dog. Yet to this day you still meet with your precious little nephew for tea and chess."

She stared at him; the cold anger across that beautiful face excited him.

"We sinned, Grell, and we were punished for it," she replied evenly. "The consequences could have been so much graver for the both of us."

Grell lowered his gaze and nodded.

"We both could have been executed, tortured, imprisoned for eternity, a much worse fate," he replied with contrition.

"I will certainly accept my fate over the alternative, in light of recent events I am sure you feel the same."

Grell nodded again. Instead she had her own terrible fate, but even her pride could not talk her out of counting all her blessings.

There would have been another alternative for dearest Angelina, one he would probably never tell her. If he had not been fighting Sebastian, he would have ended her. She dropped the dagger intended for her nephew in a fit of tears; there would be no other pleasant fate for her. This was the justification Grell used today for his desire to run her through then though it was a bit more complicated.

In truth she disappointed him; his precious murderess was just another emotional woman. He wanted to respond to his heartbreak by ripping her apart but Sebastian got to him first.

Grell couldn't count how many times he wanted to put her out of her misery now. Doing so would be rather unwise now given his current situation. Deep down he did hope there was some flicker of beautiful malice sill left in lovely Madam Red.

"Instead we are here now; husband and wife with so many new opportunities ahead of us," he said.

She stared at him for another moment, her gaze softening and the corners of her mouth gradually turning upward. Yes her life was now that of an exile essentially imprisoned in a castle with a powerful being for a husband who could barely stand her presence. She was left day after day trying to occupy herself and maintain her pride and sanity with new studies and new apprentices. All this while she watched her husband, her former servant, scraping up what glory he could find; she was useless and he had received high honors. If only she could turn the tide to herself.

That was the negative view she had long held, now felt different somehow. Madam Red gazed in Grell's eyes, realizing how much she actually savored his presence right now. Perhaps this could be a new start, a new opportunity for happier times.

"Indeed; right now, I am a truly happy woman," she replied, actually meaning it.

"And so am I," Grell chuckled, leaning in and kissing her.

She leaned back and felt the warmth of his breath. He slowly lowered her down on the mattress; she opened her eyes for a moment and looked up, seeing him leaning over her with his renewed stiffness in his hand.

"Care for another go?" he asked.

She smiled and made herself comfortable on the bed, spreading her legs and yanking on his hair. Grell grinned, kissing her and running a hand over her body as he gently slid into her. She let out a sigh, letting her body sink into the mattress as she gently rolled her head back. Grell's elbows sunk into the quilt and he thrust harder, kissing up her body and feeling her hard breaths through her chest.

Grell propped himself up on his hands and twisted his hips, hearing her gasp and moan in response. She wrapped her legs around his waist and moved her hips, grinding right against his cock. He was soon on his knee, hands clutching her sides as he pounded in harder.

Angelina looked up and saw his head was back and his eyes were closed. He wouldn't notice her suddenly annoyed expression though he probably noticed the way her body clenched for a moment. She imagined how he was probably picturing himself banging William or Sebastian or any of his regular hired boys.

The way he moved sent another wave of bliss through her and she let the thought right go. If she was a toy to him he certainly was hers right now. Any more thoughts were lost amidst the moans and writhes. She would come a few times with hard grunts before he had his last moment with a yelp.

They separated with a few last kisses and caresses, then cleaned themselves up and donned some comfortable clothes. They had the cook prepare a nice meal of roast pheasant and berries and sat at the dining room table enjoying their meal with some wine. Conversation was light, a few anecdotes here and there. There was no more talk of the battle or of Angelina's family or any other potentially unpleasant topic.

Eventually they finished dinner but kept the wine flowing. Angelina was chatting and giggling a bit more, though retained her faculties. Grell was having one glass after another; his usual mental caution against having more than three was out of mind, replaced with the assurance that wine could not get him violently drunk. Instead after six he was mildly relaxed.

Angelina then brought up an amusing story involving a few other rogue mages with which she had recently conversed. Grell wondered if one of them was young and handsome and saw her bed, it was the usual speculation though he had to catch himself before he asked. Angelina mentioned a middle-aged man in the company who was a seer.

"Now this lout works with this bright crystal ball," she recounted with a snicker. "A ball the size of someone's head he was staring into like some charlatan fortune teller."

Just the reference made a corner of Grell's mouth quirk up a little.

"I don't know if it was quartz or glass, but the inside would cloud up with smoke all the colors of the rainbow," she continued. "I couldn't believe what I was seeing, I was ready to laugh. He would stare into it and his eyebrows would knit together like some kind of caterpillar."

She was laughing so hard she could barely continue the story.

"Were any of his predictions accurate?" Grell asked.

"I really don't know, he didn't share any of them," Angelina replied. "That was the really droll part, periodically he would look into his crystal ball, stare at it intently, sometimes nod at whatever he was seeing, then rejoined the conversation. I wanted to ask if he was picturing us all naked in that ball of his, but I held my tongue."

Grell chuckled along merrily. Perhaps this was a good opportunity to add an amusing story of his own.

"Ronald and I ran into a couple seers right after the fight," he said. "I'm trying to figure out if these ones had any skill though I guess they just wanted money."

A wide mischievous smile came on Angelina's face.

"Oh? Did they tell you anything interesting?"

"They did indeed, Ron's convinced they saw the future, but I'm sure they were panhandling. I had just gotten back from a dip in the stream, Ronnie's minding the road, we're chatting a little. Then this carriage pulls up to us and we see two Easterners in rather nice clothing: a man and a woman. The bloke did all the talking; he knew we were reapers and probably good targets for a bit of fun. Neither of us have said anything, but he calls us right by name and rank and knows exactly what we just came out of."

Angelina put a hand to her mouth and chuckled.

"Oh dear," she said. "My you must be known somehow, or the chav was just that good."

"I know I've never seen either of the blighters, I doubt Ronald had ether," Grell replied. "Regardless I of course did a bit of bragging. Then it gets truly eerie, he says to me 'No wonder why you will be declared the First Lieutenant.'"

An's jaw dropped and her eyes went wide

"Did he really?" she gasped.

"Oh he certainly did. I know I thought it was bollocks; Ronald did too. Of course I tell him I won't tolerate any disrespect for my fellows and Ronnie calls him right out as a knave. He gives a half-arsed apology then says, and this is probably the funniest part, he says directly to me something to the like of 'I suppose it would be unwise of me to say you soon will be named king.'"

Angelina gave a loud cackle; Grell could only laugh along.

"I know, I found that amusing," Grell said, sipping his wine. "He's predicting me as king, bloody ridiculous."

"Well not amusing at your expense, love," An replied. "Just absolutely astounding. Did you know about Eric's death at the time?"

"No, honestly neither of us had a clue; neither of us knew he had been there. The old man told me later on."

Angelina snickered, her hazy mind having no idea what to make of this.

"My only guess is if he knew who we were and saw where we came from, he probably saw Eric get offed," Grell added, draining his glass.

"The guy must have been really good then," An replied. "Seers are an odd lot, some can barely see an insect about to land on them yet some can tell years into the future with some accuracy."

She waved her hands to emphasize the comical mysteriousness of her statement. Grell snickered along and poured himself another heaping glass.

"Ronald was so bloody convinced this bounder spoke a lick of truth, naïve kids," Grell snickered. "'Oh don't you hope you'll be king?'"

Angelina cackled at this then tipped her glass at him.

"Well why not?" she asked. "Aren't you third in rank now, oh grand First Lieutenant? And how often have I heard the Undertaker is getting tired?"

"Oh no, now you're sounding just like Ronnie," Grell whined.

Angelina gave a goofy chuckle.

"Now I should start chasing after pretty girls," she giggled.

"Well you already snagged one so you're a step ahead," Grell replied, batting his lashes.

Angelina laughed even harder and ran a hand through his hair.

"Now wouldn't this little thing want to be queen someday?" she asked.

"As in the both of us? We can be queens together."

She leaned over the table in laughter, then straightened up and caressed his cheek.

"Oh woe for impossibilities," Grell sighed, taking another gulp from his glass. "It might have been fun being king. Everyone looking up to me for guidance, everyone lining up to my order. No more being pushed around, I'm the one who gets the last laugh."

"And you would bloody deserve it," Angelina replied. "You're a leader, you're smart. How many years of service have you given those rotters? Over a hundred?"

"Oh yes, the same as Will. And now he's the one the old man's putting on the bloody throne in fifty years."

Angelina's smile melted, she stared at Grell wide-eyed. Grell took another sip then looked at his wife. He knew right then he just said something that should never have passed his lips.

"Well I can imagine that's how it would go," Grell added hastily, though he knew the damage was already done. "They bloody fight all the time but he's his favorite."

She looked at him wide-eyed, he was now trying to back away from something he shouldn't have repeated.

"Grell, what did you just say?" Angelina pressed.

"I don't bloody know, how much wine have we had?" Grell sputtered, pushing himself away from the table.

Angelina grabbed his arm and looked right in his eyes. Grell met her gaze, staring at her with a grave expression. He could be in danger for repeating this, though the suggestion was already out. He didn't know how much he wanted to keep this inside either.

"I said that the Undertaker will be giving his throne to William in fifty years, he's stepping down and just named his successor," Grell declared.

Her mouth drooped open and she stared at him. He leaned into her face a little further, taking hold of her hand.

"And that is knowledge that should never have been repeated outside the throne room," Grell hissed. "Do you know what could happen to me if this is idly repeated to someone's apprentice or someone's tea guest?" He squeezed her hand harder. "Do you understand what is going to happen to you should I learn you repeated this?"

Grell glared at her, she saw the points of his teeth through a sneer.

"No doubt," she answered calmly. "I understand your position, Grell, and I am capable of maintaining confidence. Don't talk to me like I'm an idiot."

Grell maintained his gaze for a moment, then gave a merry smile. He lifted her hand and kissed the back of it.

"I'm so sorry, dear, I know you're not an idiot," he replied. "But this is an especially grave matter, probably graver than others."

Angelina nodded.

"And you just flapped your lips about something that should never have been repeated, I understand," she replied with a smile. "You have my word, Grell, I'll pretend I never heard this."

"Thank you, madam."

Aside from a few words to clear the air, the talk between them ceased. Eventually they rose from the table and went in their separate spaces.

Grell went to his forge to smooth out some nicks in his scythe. The clang of a hammer against hot metal sounded through the whole castle. Angelina settled in her study, she swore she could hear cursing and sputtering with every smack of the hammer. So many times before she would tell him to keep the bloody racket down. Now the din actually encouraged some clearer thinking. Amidst her reading the conversation from before played through her mind: every angry sound from Grell's workshop only made her mind spin more.

Grell and Angelina would pass each other for the rest of the day, all pleasant chat. They would reunite later in the bedroom and settle into bed together. Angelina noticed a few angry cuts on the palm of Grell's hand; she gently took hold of his hand and looked at them. They were superficial slices, nothing deep.

"Oh yes, got a little careless," he sighed. "Don't waste your energy healing this, these will be gone by tomorrow.

"I certainly heard you pounding that hammer with passion," Angelina replied with a nod.

Grell grimaced and nodded a little, not saying anything in reply. She held onto his hand and looked at him thoughtfully.

"Be honest with me, Grell: you're angry about that whole matter with William aren't you?" she asked.

Grell sighed hard and looked down for a moment.

"Well maybe a little, though it's just silly," he answered. "Not like I ever wanted that bloody crown anyway; so many duties, so many responsibilities. This is all Will's territory, he relishes control and order and the old man knows it. The coot probably did me a favor."

Grell heard the strain in his voice the moment the words came out; his wife probably heard it too. Angelina looked at him thoughtfully.

"How often have you made that speech to yourself?" she replied.

He shot her a glare; she gazed at him with a stony expression.

"All right fine; yes, darling, I'm licking my wounds," he huffed. "Yes it does hurt a little to be passed over after going through all the bollocks I did two days ago. After the century I've given that codger right out in the field, yes a little more glory would be nice."

"And you certainly deserve much of it," Madam Red answered. "Instead they treat you like a cur; I see it every time I'm in their company."

Grell clenched his teeth a little harder. Just why the hell was she talking about this?

"Well I've never exactly been like everyone else," Grell said. "Personally I don't bloody care about anyone's judgment."

"Even if it means being treated as the Undertaker's pawn and William's whipping boy?"

"But I have been Second Lieutenant for the past twenty years, if you recall, and as of yesterday I am now First Lieutenant. I think the Undertaker has shown me enough of his appreciation."

"And where will you stand when the Undertaker is off the throne?" Angelina asked. "What happens to you when William wears the crown?"

Grell's upper lip curled a bit and he looked to the wall with a huff. It was a valid question, one that frankly unnerved him.

"If you recall William does not like you and you know this," she continued. "You're infatuated with him and yes you bedded him a few times, but he will show you no favor or worse."

"I know," Grell snapped back. "But he'll still bloody need me whether he likes it or not. That's how it always has been."

"In fifty years things will cease to be as they always have been. Have you given that any thought?"

Grell glared at her, then smirked.

"You're just full of cheer aren't you," he said. "And what the hell should I be doing about this? Would you like me to plead with William to stop being a twat or pleading with the king to pick me instead because my wife says so? Are you trying to talk me into deserting? What a laugh."

She stared at him in silence for a moment.

"Are those the only options you can think of?" she asked.

He cocked his head and gave her an annoyed look.

"The hell are you on about, 'options?'" he asked. "Oh do you have any brilliant ideas. Do enlighten me, madam?"

Madam Red continued gazing at him, the longer she looked at him the more annoyed he was getting.

"That depends on how much loyalty you would bear toward those who have shown you none," she replied. "Yours is a brutal kind, and you, my love, are truly ruthless. I'm surprised you haven't thought of this option yourself."

It took him a moment to understand, then he sneered and glared at her.

"You'd best be joking," Grell growled.

"No, I'm not," Angelina replied. "Your kind is at war and you are about to get a new king who is only going to bring strife within your ranks. They need a warrior king, not a quill pusher without any respect for his own kind. They might laugh at you now, but how much more loved are you compared to William? And how much more feared?"

Grell stared at her; he couldn't even believe what he was hearing. He broke into cackles; it was just so ridiculous.

"I've never known Grell Sutcliff to talk himself down," she answered. "I always thought of you as a proud, vain being."

Grell just gave her a cockeyed look, trying to mask the momentary sting of those words.

"Dear, there's pride and vanity and then there's plain common sense," he replied. "You've been with me for what, three years? You've been around my kind enough to know damn well you're spouting nonsense."

"And you've been with them long enough for your superiors to beat over your head how inferior you are," Angelina sighed. "In fifty years your people are approaching a changing of the guard after a millennium, why not shift the tide toward yourself."

"And what exactly do you care happens to my people in fifty years?"

Grell turned his head and faced her, a few more ideas coming to mind.

"I confess my previous revelation wasn't wholly accurate; actually the king might step down in twenty-five years depending on the war and his own whims," he answered. "I'm sorry, love, if I do assassinate Duke William, you will not be a young Queen. Well, that is unless the king finds me as the traitor and has me beheaded. Then just where the hell will you be? Or maybe I'll be lucky enough not to get caught, then the king will just choose one of the councilors or someone else without a reputation for butchering humans on a whim. Or should I just kill him too and snatch his crown away, is that what you're getting at?"

Madam Red made no response, she just glared at him. He snickered in response.

"Oh yes, killing a thousand-year-old reaper should be easy peasy," Grell continued. "You tell me, madam; how much of a brilliant plan have you drawn up?"

"You're the one who knows your own kind, you're the only one who knows your power, and you're the one who truly knows your situation," Angelina growled back. "I only suggest you leave no option unconsidered, loyalty be damned. You are so much greater than anyone in your realm recognizes and that includes yourself. Do not show blind loyalty for someone who has given you none."

"You should use those words for yourself, dearest. And when is the next time you're meeting with your lovely nephew?"

Angelina's hand flew toward Grell's face; Grell caught her wrist and held it hard. She pulled her hand away and leapt off the bed, grabbing her robe and wrapping it around her body.

"What is that adage, dear; something involving glass houses?" he said.

An stomped toward the door and flung it open, walking out into the hallway. After a second she walked back and leaned in the doorway.

"These seers you spoke of," she said in the sweetest voice she could conjure. "They said you would be king?"

Grell rolled his eyes.

"Two days before the Undertaker announced his abdication?" she continued. "Don't you find that a bit odd?"

Grell huffed and waved her off.

"I thought you were running to your study in indignance," he said.

She just looked at him, then sneered.

"Every option, dearest," she said.

Angelina stepped back into the hall and slammed the door.

"Bitch," Grell muttered to himself.

He pulled the covers over himself and settled into the mattress. He knew he would probably have the bed to himself tonight. She might come back and crawl in, perhaps he would wake up and do the same; the routine was always unpredictable. For now he enjoyed the quiet.

Grell stared at the ceiling and blinked a few times, those last words sinking in a bit more.


End file.
